


Give and Take Ch.24

by kinfic2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 21:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11700402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinfic2/pseuds/kinfic2
Summary: “It is only when we no longer compulsively need someone that we can have a real relationship with them.”  A.Storr





	Give and Take Ch.24

**“Tell me what you want and I’ll get you it.”**  
                                                           **“I will, but first tell me what you’ve got and then I’ll tell you what I want.”**  
                                                            _©Bernard Marie-Koltes_

  
        “Uh, Brian?”  
  
          Brian turned around with a sad smirk. “You heard me. Don’t ask me to repeat it. I only have enough energy and courage to say it once.” He started toward the bar but shook his head and detoured to the refrigerator. Purposely avoiding Justin’s gaze, he padded barefoot across the wood floor and returned with two bottles of water. Their hands barely touched, but his fingertips bristled as if zapped by a lightning bolt.  
  
          He slumped on the sofa. So many jumbled thoughts and feelings, and he couldn't decipher any of them. Where the fuck was all of this headed? Were they just kidding themselves, trying to save something that was beyond saving? And yet... Warren’s words drummed their beat in his head. _It’s your decision. It’s your choice._       
  
          Drained by the emotional confrontation of the past few hours, he took a swig of water and welcomed the silence the way one might welcome an old friend.  
  
         “We have to make things right,” Justin said.  
  
          _Leave it to him to spoil the peace and quiet._  
  
         “We have to finish this, no matter how much it hurts or how it turns out.” It wasn't an ultimatum or a threat. It was a simply stated fact—with the unspoken caveat that there would be no chance for them otherwise.  
  
          His only response was an arched eyebrow.  
  
         “Brian...”  
  
         “Don’t go all Chicken Little on me. The sky isn't falling. I’m not going anywhere. We can’t put the genie back in the bottle. It’s too late now.”  
  
          Memories of a long ago night at Babylon brushed across his mind. _But it’s too late now. There’s no turning back._ “I’m going to see this through even if it kills me. And it probably will.”  
  
          The laundry list of topics he adamantly avoided was almost as long as his largest dildo. Among the top three was the dreaded 'relationship' word, particularly his own non-denial denial, non-arrangement with Justin. After all this time, he was still at a loss to understand why and how this random 17-year old had insinuated himself into every facet of his life. Even more irritating was everyone’s smugness about them, as if they had a crystal ball and could see what he couldn't—or wouldn't.  
  
          A soft groan escaped. He could no longer deny the truth. Brian Kinney, superstudman able to bring Liberty Avenue’s gay population to their knees with a single dick and fucker extraordinaire of all male creatures great and small, was in a fucking relationship.  
  
          When a frown crossed Justin’s face at his last comment, he hurriedly added, “I’m joking!” Shit! This was why he didn’t do relationships. They were too complicated and too much work. But his gut told him Justin was right. Not only did they have to do this, he had to convince both of them that he _could._ Sorting out his feelings was rapidly becoming a pain in the ass. And not in a positive, life-affirming way.  
  
          He slid to the floor. With his arms on his drawn-up knees, he rested his chin on the bottle and sighed. Gnawing at his conscience for the past few days, eating away at his soul, he had to say one thing before they continued. “Justin...”  
  
         “Hmm?” Artist’s hands were busily peeling the label off the bottle.

          He cut the activity short when he pulled Justin down next to him. He cupped his chin so they faced each other and his insides jolted again. Under the innocent and boyish charm was pure steel. He yearned for his strength as he said, “I’m sorry.”

 **Guilt is an odd emotion. It can lead to denial, but it can also lead to compromise. And when it hangs around too long, it leads to a noose around your neck.**  
  
                                                                                                    * * *  
  
           Justin’s eyes widened at the unexpected apology. He had wanted it, _needed_ it to put the episode behind him, but now that it was actually voiced, he didn't know what to do or what to feel.  
  
         “Sorry’s bullshit, remember?” he whispered and tried to quell the rising bile as the memory ripped off his emotional bandage. How could someone he loved so absolutely do such damage to him?  
  
          “It always comes back to words, doesn’t it? It’s ironic. You use words all the time to hurt me, to push me away, but it was my body that betrayed me.” The all too familiar lump in his throat grew larger. “I wound up doing something I didn’t want to do and not really understanding why I did it. And in your eyes, I'm the wrong one. That’s fucked, Brian. It really is.”  
  
_“Shall I take further blame or another assault on how it was?_  
_Then we’ll get to the fact that it’s always my fault_  
                                                         _Just because you broke my heart.”_ _©Tennant/Lowe_  
  
                                                                                                    * * *  
          Guilt tightened around Brian's heart like a vise. The one person who loved him the most was also the one who suffered the most.  
  
          “I don’t know how to answer you.” His voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t understand it any more than you do. I don’t know why I say half the things I say to you. I fucking honestly don’t know.” He threw his hands up. “I mean, fuck! It’s just that—”  
  
          Accusatory heat branded his conscience with reproach and shame. Desperate for a distraction, he grabbed a cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke.  
  
         “Yes?” Justin seemed to drag the word out like a dare.  
  
         “Fuck! I was pissed, okay? I was drunk! I was angry! I was—”  
  
         “Jealous? Hurt? Welcome to _my_ world, Mr. Kinney!”  
  
          The mocking tone caught him off guard. He was tempted to give his usual biting retort until—  
  
         “I hear the words you said that night all the time, Brian. Just when I think you can’t hurt me anymore than you already have, you manage to surpass my expectations.”  
  
          He reeled from the stinging comment. _It always comes back to words._ The kick in the stomach forced a hidden emotion to crawl out and slither into his nooks and crannies—fear. Only after this latest debacle, could he finally admit what had been lurking in the shadows since the fiddler. He was afraid of losing him.  
  
          Running his hands through his disheveled hair, he struggled with what to say or do to salvage a modicum of respect from Justin and retrieve a miniscule piece of his so-called life for himself.  
  
_“To beg is not an easy task. But pride is such a foolish mask.  
                                                                           Please forgive me. Let me try again.”    __©Anka,Cahn,Cavelli_  
  
         “I have no excuse. None!” He scrambled to his feet and paced around the loft. “I did it to hurt you, plain and simple, because _I_ was hurt and fucking angry when I saw—”  
  
         “When you saw me at Babylon.”  
  
          He had to admit it, regardless of the consequences. “Yes! Fuck! Yes! You can’t imagine, you have no idea...” His cheeks heated at the _gotcha_ moment. “Yeah, well okay, I suppose you can imagine.” Memories of his own behavior raced across his mind, numerous occasions when their roles were reversed, when Justin was the one hurt and humiliated.  
  
          Justin raised himself onto the sofa and patted the adjoining seat cushion. “Brian, sit down. It’ll be easier for me to say what I have to say.”  
  
         He sat down warily. Every nerve on high alert, his pulse accelerated as a tsunami of apprehension swept through him. Was this it? Did Justin decide, once and for all, that he wasn’t worth the effort? The not knowing rattled him to the core. “You’re freaking me out. If that's what you wanted, you've succeeded.”  
  
                                                                                                    * * *  
        “Look at me,” Justin commanded, holding the hazel eyes hostage until Brian followed his direction. “I’m going to say this once, and then I’m going to try very hard to put it behind me because we have enough shit to deal with. Whether I’ll be successful is a different story.” He exhaled a whoosh of air and prayed he could get through his speech without breaking.  
  
        “You really, really hurt me. You’ll never know how much. It hurt more than anything you ever said or did in all the time we’ve been together, and I have a lot to use for comparison. I told you, you’ve always said things that hurt, but this was different. This was the first time that you...” He scrunched his eyes.  
  
        “You never used sex as a weapon before, Brian. You never fucked me to hurt me. As fucked up as it is, sex was the one thing between us I could always count on. That’s why I’m having such a hard time with this.” He fought to rein in the emotions that threatened to tear him apart.  
  
        “I honestly never thought you could be that mean. Even though I _know_ I know you better than anyone, there’s a part of you I can’t get near because you won’t let me. So when you did what you did, I wondered if maybe I didn’t know you, that what I knew was only what I wanted to know, you know?” He scratched his head. “That makes absolutely no fucking sense. All I can do to feel a little better is think that you must have been really hurt. That way I can convince myself you really do care.”  
  
**“I’ve set foot in the farmyard and the squelch of mysteries is like shit in the gutter and from these mysteries and this darkness of yours, comes the rule that states whenever two men meet each other, one must always choose to strike first.”**   _©Bernard Marie-Koltes_  
  
        “Fuck! If I could take it all back, I would! I’d give anything make it better. I don’t know what else to say except to promise—”  
  
         He silenced him with a finger on his lips. “Don’t. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. That’s not who you are. That’s why I left Ethan. Promises fell off his tongue so easily and they meant nothing.”  
  
         The déjà vu moment of his last argument with Ethan shadowed his mind. “At least with you, I could never accuse you of breaking a promise. Because you never made any.” His skin itched with a need for revenge and a desire to hurt. He wanted to hate him, to lash out. But he failed.  
  
         Instead, he offered what was in his heart. “You don’t know how much I missed you these past few days. I shouldn’t have, but I did. After what happened and when you didn’t call, I didn’t know what to think. I kept telling myself it was all a bad dream. I’d wake up and everything would be all right, but it didn’t work. Because it wasn’t a dream.”  
  
        He let out an indecisive breath. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with us. Maybe we’ll be able to work it out, maybe we won’t, but we should at least try. I think we owe ourselves that much. So, maybe while I’m working on putting that behind me, maybe we can keep talking to put _this,”_ he waved his arms to indicate the both of them, “in front.”  
  
       “That’s an awful lot of maybes, Sunshine.”  
  
        He stared at the massive wall of windows and nodded. “I know, but it's all we've got. Sometimes there are choices, sometimes there aren't.” He shrugged. “And sometimes there are only maybes. Right now, that’s what I have, but _maybe_ that’ll change.”  
  
                                                                                                    * * *  
        A spark from the miniscule grin flowed through Brian’s veins, but he kept his desire in check. The time wasn’t right. He didn't know if it ever would be.  
  
                                                                    _“When will the time be right? Any time but now  
                                                                                   The doubt and the fear would all disappear  
                                                                                   Anywhere but here.”_ ”   _Peart,Lee,Lifeson_

CONTINUE HERE: [https://archiveofourown.org/works/12260805 ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12260805%20)


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